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I will have to travel to the old homeland…

Naqenni still seethed. A new, fresh anger at the news of what was to come, as it went against every instinct bred within her since the day she was bloomed. She was proud of her heritage. Proud of her sisters. Proud of their legacy. Proud of what they would be one day and what they were already, all they had managed to accomplish despite the odds. But their very history was one carved from strife. They were bloomed here because of the need for a new beginning.

That was the story they had all been told.

Their mothers, all of their mothers, had warred against their ‘family’ — their own mothers and sisters at the time — for higher ideals. For what was right. They had fought blood against blood because it was that important that even those who had been beside them all their lives could not be considered allies thanks to their flawed thinking. They were killing their own mother tree and breeding refuse.

Naqenni understood that. She had made that fire part of her blood. It was her heritage.

And now, the Matron wanted them to ‘make amends.’ The yellow skinned, old, ailing woman was going to take her mystic, their only mystic, across miles upon miles of treacherous landscape—for what? No answer had been given, and she did not expect one would come. When Nivalis had revealed the information to her, she had been furious in spite of herself, and then begged her to reconsider. She didn’t have to go. The Matron was a fool. She was mad. She was out of her mind to risk everything they had—for nothing.

The Dretch were a threat, certainly, but their focus was the alkidike. It was not their problem. They were the future, and Nivalis was precious. Infinitely more important than anything that could possibly be gained by approaching the territory of the enemy. The territory of everything they had left behind, those who had dared to banish them.

Even now, dozens of hours after the fact, the thought still roiled bitter in the corners of her headspace, and she was disgusted. No one could or would provide an adequate answer for why they were doing this. The Matron was simply going to drag the most precious asset of their tribe across unknown lands to face everything they had ever fought against for no benefit to themselves.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

Except, perhaps, to pray.

She did not spend as much time near Elzira as perhaps she ought, for though she was dedicated to the mother tree, it simply was not so much her character as it seemed to be for some. Now, though, she felt especially compelled. Confused. Hurt. Wronged. Threatened. Furious in ways she could not exercise.

It was time, she thought as she moved through the quiet of evening towards their sacred tree, to attempt to reflect, and seek a clear mind and guidance for how she ought to proceed.

Since it was not a place she was accustomed to going often regardless of her general dedication, Naqenni did not expect to have company, or — if she did — she didn’t expect she would be immediately noticed, as a quiet and foreign presence there. Thus, when she first heard another’s approach, she stood silent where she was, watching and listening until she could identify the girl readily.

Akeldama.

Slightly younger than she, but among one of the earlier blooms just the same and certainly a fierce and dedicated sister. She could recall training with her even as a youngling, already exhibiting great spirit. Akel looked no more pleased than she, evident in everything from her posture to the way she held her spear to her general energy, emitting a similarly angry cloud—and her words seemed only to confirm that.

At, This is not an Elarian problem… Naqenni saw fit to make herself known.

“It isn’t.” Her voice was sharp, clipped, privately furious with everything implied in the statement as she stepped forward, towards her sister. She eyed her, and then glanced towards the trunk of their mother tree. “I assume you have just heard…?”

I refuse to leave Elzira…

Naqenni felt a conflicted pull in her gut. She knew at her core this was where her loyalties lied. This was her homeland, and the mother tree could not be abandoned. It was the root of everything they were and their new beginning. But, thinking to Nivalis—she wasn’t certain she could abandon that, either.

“I understand your sentiment,” she agreed. Her body all but physically bristled, though, as the words of recent conversation returned to her. “But I do not understand. It is nothing but foolishness. How can they take our mystic and force her-”

Her fingers bunched.

She shouldn’t speak so harshly, even in front of a sister who seemed to agree, without knowing that her words would be taken well. Clearly, there was dissent here. Disagreement that stretched so deep it threatened to cut to the root of their already small tribe. She couldn’t afford to incite enemies. But, she didn’t feel that Akeldama was one.

“I do not understand the motive…” she murmured, calmer, but no less bitter, her words gravelly with a sting of disgust. “In my…personal opinion…this trek is blindly foolish at best, recklessly destructive and a path to our end at worst…we could lose everything. For less than nothing.” She spat, unable to contain the urge, and grimaced at the ground where it hit.

“To risk all that we are…for the sake of aiding everything they warred against…”

Naqenni narrowed her eyes, skin bristling defensively. It wasn’t Nivalis’ fault that things were as they were — though admittedly, she had attempted to encourage exactly the same notion Akel was suggesting. ‘If you don’t agree, don’t go, they do not own us…’ And it still caused an uncomfortable bristle under her skin to think about.

Nothing she said mattered.

Nothing she did mattered.

Nivalis was still going forward with this suicidal plan of selfish insanity concocted by the Matron. It made her wonder why any of them were there at all. Was their entire history a joke, to be played through and then spat upon by the rest of the world because there wasn’t even enough pride among them to stand on their own, but rather to go crawling back to the enemies of their cousins because they had no more purpose or spine than that?

No matter how she thought on it, all of it left her disgusted and deflated, and she wasn’t sure yet to make of it, so how could she judge Akel for her choice? She was tempted herself to remain behind simply to demonstrate her spite for the choice. But it wouldn’t help anyone, and even if it were wrong of her, she couldn’t bear yet to leave Nivalis guarded only by fools. No matter how futile her efforts, she had to try to be of use.

“Elzira should not have to bloom another mystic and she will not…” Naqenni was not ready for such a thing. If it ended that poorly and she still managed to be alive—she couldn’t see herself doing anything other than abandoning the tribe entirely, for what point would there be if they were lead by such foolery that resulted in such a thing? She was no one’s puppet, and currently, Nivalis was their future.

They didn’t have time to sit through and wait for another. She would not put up with alkidike leadership for that long, particularly if this was the shape it took.

“It is our cousins’ enemy and it should be dealt with by the bulk of their number, not us…I do not see why they could possibly think it is our place or good for us in any sense to pursue it, let alone at so much risk…”

Naqenni could at least privately acknowledge at this point that she was perhaps more reflexively defensive of their mystic than was fully justified. But, she chose mostly to ignore it. Nivalis was a critical part of their tribe and she should not have to feel guilt in supporting her fervently. At the same time, however, she knew too that there was truth in Akeldama’s perspective.

“I understand your prerogatives,” Naqenni said. “And Elzira is of course the heart of our kin. She must be guarded and I do believe we run a foolish and unnecessary risk in leaving her… But also understand that if we do not return, if our mystic is lost with any others of our number…I do not think the circumstances would be such to support a future.”

They were too few already. Too new.

If they lost Nivalis now, Naqenni did not genuinely think there would be much hope for the rest of them. When Akeldama made her prayer, though, she did shut her eyes, internally mirroring the sentiment. They would need all the sisters they could call their own, for change and challenge felt like beasts encroaching from the shadows—and breathing down their necks whether they were ready or not.